


Payment of a Different Kind

by Brynneth



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Bondage, Killing Flies, M/M, Roleplay, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-18
Updated: 2011-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynneth/pseuds/Brynneth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to kmeme prompt.  Anders loses to Fenris in Wicked Grace and owes him money.  When Fenris comes to collect, Anders doesn't have it.  Fenris takes an alternative payment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Payment of a Different Kind

**Author's Note:**

> This work was beta-ed by the awesome Zevgirl.

For what seemed like the umpteenth time, Anders shoved a stray lock of golden hair out of his eyes.  He had crouched over this rickety table for so long that his spine felt as if it would be permanently curved like a hunchback’s.  Loose leaf parchments covered with childlike scribbles lay strewn across the makeshift desk.  A stray fly buzzed at his ear, only to spiral up every time Anders swatted at it.  As soon as he returned to his writing, it would reappear, crawling up the nape of his neck.  Finally, he decided that he had endured enough.  It was time for the pesky little insect to die a traumatic death.

 

Grabbing at the papers he had shoved aside, he rolled them neatly into what he hoped would be an adequate weapon.  Just as he was about to stand, the fly streaked across his vision, no more than an inch from his nose.  Properly enraged, he stumbled to his feet, kicking the chair back with a high-pitched squeak.

 

“So you would taunt me, would you?  Well, allow me to inform you that you have met your match!  Come to Daddy, you little demon!”

 

His eyes narrowed, tracking the fly as it swept toward a torch and then landed on the wall.  Anders bared his teeth in his ‘you’ve-just-made-your-last-move-sucker’ snarl and crept toward the wall on tiptoe.  He was a powerful mage and the best healer in Kirkwall; no miniscule insect was going to top _him_.  He licked his lips in anticipation and slowly began to raise the rolled-up paper above his head.  Each footstep was placed against the rotting floorboards with exaggerated care.  Finally, he reached his target, coming to a stop an arm’s length away from the fly.  His breath came out in a subdued hiss as he bent his knees in a crouch.  Gripping the papers tightly, he bit down on his lower lip in concentration and tightened his muscles.  The fly didn’t even twitch a wing.

 

“ ** _Yah_**!”  With a battle cry of triumph, he swung his weapon with so much force that he felt a ligament in his shoulder shriek with pain.  The papers landed on the wall with a _thwack_ , and the nearby torch flickered wildly in the resulting breeze.  He felt barely a half-second of victory before a tiny, black, _angry_ creature barreled straight into his right eye _._ Crying out in startled surprise, he staggered backward, dropping the papers and grabbing futilely at his eye.  It was stinging in protest, and he rubbed at it frantically while continuing to step away from the wall—directly into one of the cots he kept for his patients.

 

Yelping, he twisted his body as it fell, and his shin banged against the cot’s leg as he went down.  He ended up in a flurry of flying feathers from his coat, gingerly rubbing at his sore leg, while yelling every profanity Oghren had ever taught him.  Finally, with a miserable huff, he pulled himself to a sitting position, only to find that he had more company in the room than just an annoying insect who didn’t know when to die.

 

“Well, that was certainly one of your _better_ performances.  If you were to repeat such an act in front of the Templars, they would likely decide that they have nothing to fear from such an oaf, and you would be left in peace.” The deep, resonant voice dripped with disdain.

 

Anders sent a heated glare in the direction of the armored elf leaning against the doorway.

 

“Did they teach you no manners in the Imperium?  Or do you always think that you can just walk in wherever you please?  A little movement against the door with your fist is called a _knock_ and works wonders in announcing your presence.”

 

“I hardly felt it necessary to use my fist in a place that is known around Darktown as the _walk-in_ clinic.  Or do all your patients knock?”

 

“ _They_ don’t interrupt me in the middle of important endeavors.”

 

“Ah, yes.  I can see how… occupied you are with hunting your diminutive enemy.”

 

“Well, at least I’m not the _only_ person it likes to pester.”  Anders grinned slyly as the fly buzzed around Fenris’s head and performed an impressive loop directly in front of the warrior’s face.  Without even a blink, Fenris’s gauntleted hand flashed out, closing swiftly around the insect with a metallic snap.  He raised his arm casually and tossed the dead fly over his shoulder through the doorway.  Then he casually crossed his arms over his chest and gazed calmly at Anders.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Anders scowled at him, irritated at the audacity this elf had in entering _his_ home and killing _his_ flies.  “Is there a reason you’re here or did you come just to prove your superiority over insects?”

 

“I have no need to prove my superiority over anything.  I am here to collect my money.”

 

Anders stood up and brushed at his coat in an effort to show that he, too, could look as imposing as Fenris did in his bristling, spiky armor.  “What money?  I don’t even have any money.  I run this place for free, remember?”

 

“Have you already forgotten your demeaning loss at Wicked Grace two nights ago?  Or did your demon manage to erase your memory while you slept off the effects of Corff’s putrefying ale?”

 

“He is not a demon!  He is a _spirit_!  There is a _difference_ , you hateful prick.”  Anders rubbed at his forehead tiredly.  Come to think of it, he _did_ remember waking yesterday morning with the worst headache he had felt in ages.  His clothes hadn’t exactly smelled like exotic perfume from Orlais either.  And hadn’t Justice been awfully quiet the last two days, leaving only an aura of severe displeasure?  Anders had wondered what he had done to send the disapproving spirit into a very human-like sulk.

 

“What, we played for money?  How much did I lose exactly?”

 

The corner of Fenris’s mouth turned up in a self-satisfied smirk.  “Two sovereigns.”

 

“ _What_?”  Anders glared at the unfairly handsome elf, and then he glared at the wall.  He followed this with a furious scowl at his desk and finally at the floor.  None of these innocent targets offered him an explanation.  The floor even managed to be offensive with its distinct lack of cleanliness.  With a weary sigh, Anders sank into his chair by the unhelpful desk.  Adding insult to injury, the chair creaked at him with a sound suspiciously like a fart.  _Never a drop of respect in this place_.

 

“I don’t have any money, Fenris.  I spent the last of it this morning on medical supplies and I can assure you that it wasn’t close to two sovereigns anyway.  So you’re just going to have to accept that the game was for fun.”

 

A hand sheathed in steel claws slammed down on the desk.  Anders scooted back in the chair with an audible gulp as his eyes registered the glowing, intricate tattoos swirling up the muscular arm.  His heart decided that it was time to race, while his brain scurried to the back of his skull and huddled there screaming at him in fear.  _Get back here and help me think, you useless bundle of nerves and tissue_!

 

“I do not play games for _fun,_ Mage.  You bid two sovereigns and lost.  I expect payment.”  The sharp fingertips dug into the wood of the desk for emphasis.

 

Anders’s fingers clenched the seat of his chair, and his eyes darted to his cot where his trusty staff lay, just _begging_ to be used.

 

“Don’t even think of it.  I can move _much_ faster than you.”

 

“I’m not thinking of anything, you brawny, mage-hating… uh… hideously blue elf!”  _Okay, brain, get bloody back here **now**_.

 

“Not surprising.  You often talk like you’re incapable of thinking anything intelligent.”

 

“Hey!  At least I can read a more advanced book than a child’s primer!”  _Uh oh.  Maybe that wasn’t the cleverest thing I’ve ever uttered…._

Venomous, green eyes narrowed and the lyrium markings brightened alarmingly.  “You may wish to consult your _advanced_ books to see if they offer you a spell that produces currency.  I have no intention of leaving here without my payment.”

 

Anders tugged at his ponytail in exasperation.  “I told you, I don’t _have_ any money!  Are you deaf as well as annoying?”

 

Fenris smiled then, a rather worrisome, _evil_ smile.  The kind of smile a cat gives a mouse just before it pounces.  And while Anders _loved_ cats, he didn’t like being a mouse.

 

“I can be persuaded to accept… _another_ form of payment,” said Fenris.  He cocked his head to one side, allowing his eyes to rake slowly over Anders from head to toe, as if he was assessing a prize piece of meat.

 

“And what would that be?”  That expression on Fenris’s face was making him nervous.  He _really_ hoped that payment wasn’t going to take the form of a transparent fist in his chest.

 

“You.”

 

The word, _you_ , bounced around in his skull searching for something to connect with.  Unfortunately, his brain was still cowering like a whipped dog, so his mouth simply could _not_ be expected to say anything noteworthy.

 

“Huh?”  Yes, that was an utterance fit for a genius.  _Sod it all_ ….

 

“I. Want. _You_.  Do I need to make myself any clearer, or are you intelligent enough to discern my meaning?”  The damned elf was kicking him while he was _down_.

 

Anders’s mouth went slack, and his eyes bulged in a most unflattering manner.  When he spoke, his voice resembled the piercing squeak of a mouse, which fit the circumstances nicely, he supposed.  “You mean… you… uh… want me?  Er… _sexually_?”

 

 “Yes.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Uh… why?”

 

“You are not an unattractive man.  For a mage.”

 

“But you hate me.”

 

“I don’t believe _that_ has any bearing on attraction _.”  Maker, does he have to be this calm about it_?  Anders certainly wasn’t calm.  Anders was baffled… and shocked… and _interested_.  His brain had begun to crawl back in place, every nerve perking up with lewd thoughts.  _Oh **now** , you decide to help_.

 

“Is this arrangement acceptable, Mage?”

 

“Do I have a choice?”  _Yes_ , said his brain.  _We don’t care_ , said his cock.

 

“Since you don’t have my money, it is either this or I would be satisfied with carrying you down to the docks and throwing you into the sea.”

 

“I can’t swim!”

 

“Then it would appear you have no choice.”

 

Anders thought quickly, which was an amazing feat considering that his head was spinning wildly out of control.  To be honest, he couldn’t deny that he found Fenris quite delectable, but given Fenris’s blatant disgust of anything magical, he had never seriously considered bedding the elf.  Yet, Fenris was here, propositioning _him_ , as if the two of them didn’t sling mud at each other every day.  Which they did… in a verbal sense, anyway.

 

“Um… okay.”  Anders looked around at the meager furniture in his clinic.  “Where… ah… were you planning on doing this?”  As if they were discussing painting a picture or something equally harmless.

 

“Undress first.”  Fenris wandered over to a shabby bookcase where Anders stored his potions and various medical supplies.  The fingertips of his gauntlets trailed lightly over the vials and boxes as he examined them.  Anders just watched him mutely, his mouth hanging open in a stupefied fashion.  Fenris glanced over at him and frowned.

 

“Did you not hear me?  I told you to undress.”

 

Anders’s mouth opened and closed, much like a fish, while his thoughts struggled to form some order out of the chaos.  Fortunately, his hands seemed capable of moving without any help from his boggled mind.  He removed the coat slowly and tossed it on the desk, watching Fenris warily.  Even if a cat wasn’t biting, it didn’t mean the mouse was _safe_ , by any means.  He stood with chest bared while Fenris reached out and retrieved an object from the bookcase.  Nodding to himself, the elf turned back to Anders, his lips curling up in a… was that a _smile_?  Fenris could smile?

 

“Better, but you are still half-dressed.”  Fenris walked toward him, his emerald eyes fastened on the broad expanse of Anders’s chest.  Anders glanced curiously at the object Fenris had retrieved, confused as to why he needed gauze bandages.  His attention snapped back abruptly when Fenris trailed a claw around his nipple and then drew it down Anders’s stomach, parting the blond hairs that dipped to his waist.

 

“You are not like the magisters in Tevinter.  Most of them lack a muscular build; they focus more on books than keeping themselves fit.”  The cold steel of Fenris’s gauntlet caressed the skin just above Anders’s pants, and the mage bit back a gasp, fervently wishing that he could bite back his cock as well.  “I find your appearance most… pleasing.”

 

“Really?”  His hand spasmed as the gauntlet slid slightly beneath the waistband.  “If you had told me this long ago, we could be best friends by now.”

 

“Hardly.”  Fenris withdrew his hand and with a sharp slash downward, sliced neatly through the laces on Anders’s pants.

 

“Hey!  I don’t exactly have a wardrobe full of clothes, you glowing bastard!”  _Actually, that little wardrobe functions as my bedroom…._

“Take them off, Mage.”  Anders gave him his best, bona-fide ‘you-will pay-for-this-later’ glare and yanked off the trousers.  When Fenris looked pointedly at his smallclothes, he gave an injured huff, and removed them also.  His skin prickled with vulnerability, but he refused to acknowledge it, crossing his arms in what he hoped was a defiant stance.

 

“It is good to see that you are capable of obeying, after all.  It would be wise for you to continue to do so during our game.”

 

Well, the defiance was definitely not doing anything to counter the fact that his dick and balls were on full display, and at the mention of a _game_ , his cock actually _twitched_. 

 

“Game?  What game?”

 

“We are going to role-play.”

 

“We are?”  Maker, was he in the _Fade_?  His surroundings weren’t that strange, gray landscape marked by clusters of lyrium veins; but hey, maybe the spirits and demons had finally decided that their realm needed a full-scale makeover.  Such a concept was certainly more realistic than Fenris wanting to _role-play_.

 

“Yes.”  Fenris bared perfect, white teeth in a malicious smile.  “You shall be the magister, and I will play the slave.”

 

Maybe Varric and Isabela were behind this.  Maybe they were standing just outside the front door, doubled over with laughter at Anders’s gullibility.  Maybe Hawke had decided that spending an evening in his upscale estate was too dull and had convinced Fenris to have some fun at Anders’s expense.  Maybe Sandal had cast some weird enchantment over Fenris, and he and his father were hovering outside just waiting to barge in and do… whatever it was dwarves did for fun.  Maybe his mind had finally cracked under the pressure of tolerating two beings.

 

“You… want to be the… slave.  So I get to be in control?”  Hmm.  This could possibly be entertaining after all.  All that lyrium embedded under tanned skin, entirely at his disposal.  He sincerely hoped that he wasn’t drooling like a mabari.

 

“Of course not.  I am _always_ in control.  In this instance, the slave has mastered the master.  You have been conquered and are now at my mercy.”  Green eyes gleamed with hunger.

 

That didn’t sound quite as nice as _his_ idea.  He reached one bare foot back in a subtle attempt to put some space between the elf and himself.

 

“You know, maybe we could discuss a different scenario, like… _gah_!”  In a swift rush forward, Fenris bent and encircled Anders’s waist with his arms, scooping him up and slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  Except potatoes were probably treated with more _respect_.

 

“Hey!”  Balling his hands into fists, he pounded on Fenris’s back while kicking his feet into the air.  If the damned elf was going to treat him like a child then he would bloody well act like one.  “Let go of me, you pointy-eared, nug-humping twit!”

 

A deep chuckle that sounded as if it was uttered by a demon came from somewhere close to his thigh.  “Yes, that is quite the spirit I was hoping for, Mage.”  Sharp fingertips pressed delicately against the tender flesh of his buttocks, holding him firmly in place.  When Anders began to sputter in protest, one claw trailed feather-light over the sensitive skin covering his testicles.  Anders went limp, deciding that he preferred to keep his balls rather than have them sliced off like fruit from a tree.

 

Fenris sauntered over to the broad wooden table at the center of the dilapidated room, where Anders performed most of his healing.  Anders had placed a fresh blanket over it earlier, after cleaning the blood and other unmentionable fluids from its rough surface.  His clinic might be poor and dingy, but the beds and materials he used were clean.  Fenris bent over the table and dumped Anders onto the blanket, pressing him flat with one hand.

 

“Are you prepared to endure my revenge, Magister?”  Fenris placed the roll of bandages on the edge of the table and began to calmly remove each gauntlet, his eyes never leaving Anders’s widened ones.

 

“Um, how about if I promise to change my ways… er… Slave?”

 

“I don’t believe you.  Mages aren’t capable of changing.”  Fenris shrugged off his armor top with a casual roll of his shoulders, exposing a deeply tanned chest decorated with raised tattoos that scrolled enticingly around his pectorals and weaved down to his flat stomach.  _Maker_ , thought Anders, unconsciously licking his lips at the sight.  _That is just insanely hot._ His cock clearly agreed, stiffening with a surge of heat _._   Fenris noticed, his lips settling into a triumphant smirk.

 

“Does the sight of me please you then, Magister?  Do you wish to ravage me, sate your lust within my body, take me until I beg for release?”  Each word rolled from Fenris’s lips with a lustful rumble, causing Anders’s hips to jerk with growing need.

 

“By Andraste, _yes_.”  Ouch, that sounded so eager, and what was that unmanly squeak at the end?  Well, he was _role-playing_ , after all.  No harm in pretending to enjoy Fenris’s little game, and he would just ignore the fact that he truly _was_ enjoying it.

 

“Too bad.  I’m afraid that’s what I intend to do to _you_.”  Fenris reached down and began to unroll the bandages, stretching the white gauze between his slender fingers, testing its strength.  Anders watched with rising anxiety… not to mention a rising erection _.  Damn it, why can’t you behave_ , he scolded his cock.  As usual, his traitorous appendage ignored him.

 

Fenris moved to the head of the table, his eyes slowly raking over Anders’s sprawled body.  The mage flushed and glared back at him, hoping that his anger would erase all the embarrassing signs of his arousal.  It was clear from the gleam of hunger in his eyes that Fenris appreciated the sight of Anders fully exposed to his lascivious gaze.

 

“Arms over your head, Magister.”  When Anders hesitated, Fenris lashed out in a blur and closed his hand over Anders’s wrist, yanking it above the mage’s head.

 

“Ow!  Do you have to be so impatient?”  Anders tried to twist his head around to see what Fenris was doing, but his neck shrieked in protest, and he slumped back against the table.  Fenris grabbed the other wrist and began to wrap the gauze around both of them.  Within seconds, he had finished and returned to his position at the foot of the table.  A vicious yank confirmed Anders’s suspicions:  he was securely tied down.  His cock pulsed in approval.

 

“You know, it really isn’t necessary to bind me, Slave.  I’ll be a good Magister….”

 

“It is necessary.”  Fenris pushed Anders’s feet together and bound the ankles in a similar fashion, tying off the end to the leg of the table.  “You see, I intend to take what pleasure I wish from you.”  Fenris gave the bandages an experimental tug, satisfied with the result.  “And you will not be able to resist or indulge yourself.  I haven’t decided if I will allow you to come.”

 

“What?”  Anders’s eyelids fluttered shut as his erection swelled at Fenris’s words.  “But….”

 

“It is a suitable punishment, is it not?”  Fenris began to peel his leggings off, exposing heavily muscled thighs outlined with lyrium.  Anders’s breath hitched, momentarily forgetting his predicament at the sight of Fenris, unclothed.  _Maker_ , but he wasn’t even wearing anything under those skin-tight pants.  Fenris stood before him, completely comfortable in his nakedness, his heavy length half-risen and darkened with arousal.  Anders’s brain threw up its hands and slunk off to a remote corner, leaving his ecstatic cock in control.

 

“Do you like what you see?”  Fenris placed one hand casually on his hip and quirked an eyebrow.

 

“It’s… okay.”  _It’s definitely more than okay, but we can’t just turn over belly up and let him scratch, can we?_

“Is that all?  Then why are you panting?”

 

“I’m not!”

 

“Yes, you are.”  Anders clamped the offending lips shut and struggled to calm his breaths.  A feral light glittered in the depths of Fenris’s eyes and he sat himself on the edge of the table.

 

“Do you remember how you like me to use my markings, Magister?”

 

Was this a trick question?  “You mean the way you can just pass through things like a ghost?”  It was getting difficult to think with Fenris’s impressive erection so close, tantalizing Anders’s vision.  There were no tattoos swirling over the elf’s length, but it was terribly distracting nonetheless.  The skin was so smooth, the flared head swollen _just_ so, and his fingers ached to touch it.

 

“I was referring to the effect it has on you, but perhaps you have forgotten?  Please allow me to remind you.”

 

Uh oh, that sounded scary, the kind of scary that he usually preferred to avoid.  He watched wide-eyed as Fenris’s markings began to glow, suffusing the elf’s skin with an ethereal luminescence.  He then stretched out a hand and lightly ran his palm over Anders’s taut stomach as the tattoos flared to incandescence.

 

Every cell of his skin reacted to that touch; every part of him that derived its magic from lyrium rushed to the call of Fenris’s power like a moth to the flame.  It was more intense than swallowing ten lyrium potions, more electrifying than touching a raw vein of the potent ore.  Fenris was the spark and Anders was the tinder set on fire by the surge of energy pulsing from the elf’s fingertips to the waiting expanse of Anders’s naked skin.  He could no more resist the lyrium’s song than he could defy the act of breathing.

 

It was transcendent; pleasurable was too insufficient a word to describe the sizzling phenomenon that encompassed his body as Fenris trailed his fingers from his stomach to his chest.  His back arched helplessly against his bindings, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his mouth agape in rapturous shock.  From the corner of his mind where Justice had retreated into a sullen apathy, the spirit surged forth, rushing to meet the heady waves of lyrium power flowing through Anders.

 

Lost in his own storm of sensuality, Anders barely even noticed Justice’s presence until Fenris removed his hand, the energy ebbing as contact was broken.  As he lay gasping from the experience, he felt the spirit in his head, fully awake and demanding _more_.  If Anders weren’t so shell-shocked by what Fenris had just done to him, he would have laughed at Justice’s sudden intense affection for the elf he usually detested.  As it was, the only coherent thought in his head was _moremoremoremore_.

 

“You liked that didn’t you, Magister?  An _exquisite_ form of torture, isn’t it?  Does it… _disturb_ you that your slave can have this kind of power over you?”

 

 _Sod_ the elf!  Anders struggled to fight against both Justice and his aching cock.  “What power?  If you would just untie me, you bastard, I would show you plenty of damn power!”

 

“Indeed?  So you don’t wish for more?  Hmm….”  Fenris tapped his chin thoughtfully for a moment and then reached once more for the bandages.  Anders watched him anxiously as Fenris unrolled a sizable length and leaned over Anders’s cock.  While the mage looked on with growing apprehension, Fenris began to twine the gauze firmly around and between each testicle and then around the base of his erection.  He moved swiftly, finishing his work just as realization raced through Anders’s befuddled head.

 

“Hey!  What… _why_?”

 

“How many times have I suffered your torments, Magister?  You enjoyed humiliating me, did you not?  Leaving me wanting, begging for release while you took your own, and then leaving me unfulfilled.  I think it’s time you receive a taste of your own actions.”

 

Maker, what exactly had Danarius _done_ to Fenris, anyway?  And why in the name of holy Andraste was his damned dick enjoying this so much?  His betraying erection was twitching and straining within its bindings, utterly refusing to calm down.  He didn’t get the chance to scold it; before he could draw another breath, Fenris flared to blue glory once again and caressed Anders’s groin.

 

Every thought shattered under the heat raging through that most sensitive of places.  Anders could not even hear the keening sounds coming from his throat over Justice’s roar of pleasure.  He twisted helplessly on the table while Fenris watched hungrily, his own erection swelling at the sight of the mage writhing beneath his hands.  Before the rush of pure ecstasy could overwhelm Anders to the point of fainting, Fenris drew his fingers away, his gaze fastened on Anders’s cock jerking and darkening with blood.

 

The mage lay gasping, fingers clenching and unclenching in an agony of need.  _So good, it was so **good**.  _ He felt fingers in his hair, deftly removing the thong that held his hair up.  Fingernails scraped against his scalp as Fenris carded his fingers through Anders’s hair.  The mage moaned, breathing heavily through parted lips.

 

“From now on, you will leave your hair down.  I quite like it like this.”  _From now on?_ His mind wrestled with the idea of enduring another round of Fenris’s _role-play_ and finally just bowed out in gibbering resignation.  The fingers in his hair twisted in the golden locks and turned Anders’s head so that he was facing Fenris’s cock only inches from his nose.  Precum leaked from the swollen head, coalescing into a mesmerizing drop that was just begging to be licked.  Anders’s tongue darted out, unconsciously wetting his lips in anticipation.

 

“Do you want this, Magister?  Answer please _.”  No, absolutely not.  I will not stoop to sucking your…._

 

“Yes, _please_.”  Oh, great.  Now his mouth was betraying him too.  So much for hanging onto a shred of pride.

 

“Open up, Magister.”  His lips widened obediently as Fenris pushed forward and into his eager mouth.  Ah, the _taste_.  It had been years since he had done this; how could he have forgotten the sheer bliss of running his tongue over silky skin dampened by sweetened, musky fluid?  His hips thrust forward in tandem with his mouth, as he bobbed up and down Fenris’s length, his tongue caressing and teasing the sensitive ridge beneath.  He felt Fenris’s grip on his hair tighten, and the elf began to gently rock his hips.  Anders opened his eyes and looked up to see Fenris with his head tilted back, eyes closed in pleasure.  Determined to regain at least a smidgen of control, Anders swallowed Fenris deeply and hollowed his cheeks in a long, satisfying suck.  Fenris groaned, a shudder wracking his body.  Anders smiled in spite of the fullness in his mouth; _there_ it was.  Now _he_ was the one who had the power.

 

His triumph was short-lived.  Fenris pulled back abruptly, leaving a string of saliva dangling from Anders’s lips.  The elf’s face was flushed, but his eyes narrowed as he glared down at the grinning mage.

 

“Still attempting to control me, Magister?  I think it’s time to finish this with you in your proper _place_.”

 

Fenris reached down and loosened the bandages binding Anders’s ankles.  As the mage tried to roll away, Fenris grabbed him and forced him to his side, pushing Anders’s knees up to his chest.  In a blur of motion, he wrapped the bandages around Anders’s knees and tied them off to the same leg that held his hands in bondage.  The result was a very startled mage lying trussed on his side with knees bound to his chest, and his ass very much exposed.

 

“Now that is much better.  Bound and waiting to be used just like a good slave.  How does it feel, Magister?”  Fenris bent down and retrieved a jar of oil from his pile of clothes on the floor.  “Be thankful that I will take the time to prepare you.”

 

“Fenris….”  Anders didn’t get to finish his plea.  A single slick finger penetrated his anus, delving deeply.  Anders’s back tried to arch in pleasure, but the bindings restricted his movements, holding him in a fetal position with his arms stretched overhead.  He moaned, trembling as Fenris began to thrust his finger in and out.  When the second digit was added, he cried out, throwing his head back and grasping the bandages around his wrists desperately.  His erection throbbed within its constricting bindings, his balls tightening with need.  Then Fenris curled his fingers, and the yell that came from Anders could probably be heard throughout Darktown.

 

The fight in him was gone; his brain had given up long ago, Justice was still basking in his lyrium-induced haze, and his cock had full control of his faculties.  As Fenris thrust roughly into him, filling him to the hilt, all coherent thoughts fled, leaving his mouth to babble sheer nonsense as he was penetrated again and again.  It was the ultimate agony: he could only move his head, helplessly bound as he was with his ass fully at Fenris’s mercy.  His erection pumped futilely, similarly restricted by the bandages and unable to bring him over the edge.

 

With a possessive growl, Fenris picked up the pace, plunging deeply, his engorged cock pistoning relentlessly into Anders’s ass.  He braced himself on the table with one hand while the other fisted once more into Anders’s hair, forcing his head back.  The mage’s moans spiraled into wailing keens, interrupted by gasps and wordless pleas.  When Fenris changed his angle, the keening became choked screams as the elf brushed against Anders’s prostate with each thrust.  Anders’s body begged for a release that wouldn’t come, and the screams descended into sobs as the table creaked from the force of Fenris’s hips slamming into him.

 

Finally, when Anders thought he could take no more, that his trembling body would shatter from the building pressure, Fenris exploded inside him.  With a sharp cry, the elf thrust deeply one last time, and Anders’s felt the hot pulsing within him, filling him with Fenris’s seed.  He turned his face into the table, moaning brokenly into the rough cloth as his own cock throbbed in response, struggling to reach orgasm.

 

He barely felt gentle fingers releasing his bonds, the bandages removed with soft caresses that seemed so terribly out-of-place.  A calloused hand stroked his hair soothingly as the other one straightened his legs and unbound his cock and balls.  He _did_ feel the lips that pressed against his own, a hot tongue coaxing his mouth open and licking at his parched lips.  And oh, he could _move_!  His arms lay weakly at his sides but his back arched as Fenris, a strangely _gentle_ Fenris, deepened the kiss.  Questing fingers slid along his turgid length, and he cried out from oversensitivity.

 

The wonderfully soft lips pulled away and he lay in a daze, longing for their return.  Before he could think to speak, to beg for another kiss, his cock was engulfed with a glorious moist heat.  His pelvis thrust up desperately, every nerve humming with ecstasy, his mind crying _thankyouthankyouthankyou_ in a silent howl.

 

It didn’t take long; he had been so close for so long now.  A few jerky thrusts, Fenris’s mouth encompassing him completely, and he disintegrated into a million particles of pure sensation.  Tears of relief streaked his face as one long wail echoed throughout the room.  It seemed to last forever, wave after wave crashing over him, before finally relinquishing him to a fog of warm stupor.

 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he finally opened his eyes to see a fully-clothed Fenris fastening the last clasp of his armor top.  The elf had a _very_ self-satisfied smirk on his face, and Anders wanted desperately to wipe it off.  _Sodding, egotistical bastard_.  His addled brain absolutely _refused_ to remember the gentle touches at the end that _must_ have come from Fenris.  _I had to have imagined that_.

 

“I’ll leave you to your ah… _important_ endeavors now, Mage.”

 

Anders pulled his aching body into a sitting position.  “Are we even now, you green-eyed devil?”

 

Fenris quirked one corner of his mouth.  “I shall have to ask Varric how much the going rate is these days for a tumble with a whore.  I may be back.”

 

“Why you… hurlock-loving… ugly-eared… glowy… _piece of bronto shit_!”  Anders sputtered as Fenris turned on his heel and strode out of the clinic without even a glance back.  He shut the door behind him just as the previously used jar of oil struck the moldy wood with a _clunk._

 

Anders glowered at the door for several minutes before finally giving a tired huff and sliding off the table.  Wobbling slightly, he managed to pull on his underclothes before collapsing in a disheveled heap on his cot.  Maker, what a night.  Justice purred from his corner in contentment.  _Oh, shut up_.  Anders flipped to his side and closed his eyes, hoping that the Fade would offer him a more _normal_ scene than what he had just experienced.  _Yes, please.  How about some familiar boring, twisted trees, and glowering pissed-off demons?  So much more natural, really._

 

That’s when he felt an irritating tickling and opened his eyes to see a fly sitting on the end of his nose.


End file.
